


Bright and Early

by othersideofthis (hikaru)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Bruises, Choking, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Painplay, Premature Ejaculation, Restraints, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/pseuds/othersideofthis
Summary: “Please,” Tanner manages to breathe out. “Please, wait—”Jeff’s smile is just as wicked as his hands are. “I don’t think so.”





	Bright and Early

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a joke on twitter and morphed into this. 
> 
> thanks to twitter for encouraging me, and to ionthesparrow for the edits, handholding, ending, and title. 
> 
> things i made up: the kings' travel schedule at some nebulous point in the future, literally everything about knots
> 
> more detailed content notes are at the end. if you feel you have been inadequately warned, please leave me a message and i will address.

“Hang on," Tanner says. "Hang—Tyler—hold up, I have a—I wanna—"

Tyler doesn't listen. He often doesn't. That's the way Tyler gets, once clothes start coming off. Full steam ahead.

And he really doesn't listen now, with Jeff sitting sprawled on the couch. Tyler and Tanner have taken over the loveseat nearby, with Tanner settling on Tyler’s lap. They’d been working on getting Jeff to agree to this for months, and now he’s here, and Tyler doesn’t seem inclined to wait much longer.

Jeff’s quiet, which is pretty normal for him, Tanner thinks. He doesn’t even seem to notice that Tanner’s said anything at all. Instead, he watches them carefully. His eyes track Tyler as he gropes at Tanner’s clothes, trying to get Tanner out of them. He must like what he sees, Tanner thinks distantly, because Jeff’s left hand moves lazily against the front of his pants.

"Shh." Tyler's lips press against Tanner's neck. His fingers work at Tanner's belt, tugging it open.

"Seriously, wait." Tanner’s hoarse, breathless. When Tyler slides his hand down the front of Tanner's pants, Tanner coughs, shivers. He wants to get away from Tyler’s roaming hands so he can at least get a complete thought out for once.

"Shh." Again. Tyler's breath is warm on Tanner's skin, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Tyler kisses up the side of Tanner's neck. "You're going to ruin the show."

“Wait, slow down. You know what happens when—” Tanner pushes Tyler’s hands away, twists around to get a better look at Tyler. “You think I wanna just— _you know_ —in front of Jeff?” Tanner’s voice drops into a low hiss, so maybe Jeff won't hear. “It’s fucking embarrassing. What if we only get one shot at this?” Tanner cuts a glance over at Jeff, hoping he hasn’t noticed the hushed conversation Tanner’s having. Jeff hasn’t moved, sure, but there’s a shrewd look in his eyes, a tight set to his jaw, that wasn’t there before, that puts Tanner on edge. "What if he—"

Tyler kisses Tanner, suddenly sweet. "It's Carts," Tyler says when he pulls away, too loud for Tanner's comfort. "What's there to be scared of?"

"Tanner," Jeff interjects before Tanner can list all of his fears.

So he was listening, after all. Tanner and Tyler both go still; Tanner very slowly turns to look at Jeff, who suddenly seems interested in more than just the fact that Tanner and Tyler were making out. He’s leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looks patient, actually. Kind. Curious. Tanner’s eyebrows draw together as he squints at Jeff, waits for his next move.

“What’s the matter?” Jeff asks. He’s close enough that when he reaches out, his fingers brush against Tanner’s leg, and Tanner wants to pull back, get space, because Jeff being this close is overwhelming. “Tell me.” 

Tanner shudders. He doesn't know if it's because of Jeff’s fingers, pressed lightly to Tanner’s knee, or if it’s because of Tyler's hand, stroking him slow and careful overtop of Tanner’s boxers, or maybe it’s the quiet command in Jeff's voice.

Tanner wants to be good. He wants to do what Jeff tells him to do.

Tyler pushes at the front of Tanner's boxers, enough to free his dick, and this time Tanner knows exactly why he whimpers. "You heard him." Tyler punctuates his words with a flick of his wrist.

"Oh my god." Tanner can feel his whole face heat up, knows he's gone pink all over. "Stop it, Ty, I need to—" He grunts, manages to get one hand around Tyler's wrist, forcing him to stop. He can't think clearly, not when Tyler's determined to bring him off, not when he's already so close.

He knows it’s probably better to tell Jeff than to cross his fingers and hope for the best. And it’s not like he hasn’t had this conversation before with other guys. But that doesn’t mean he really wants to be having this conversation. "Look," he says, glancing in Jeff's direction, but not quite able to meet his eyes. "Look, I do this thing where I—it's like I—" He makes a frustrated noise and trails off.

Until Tyler came along, Tanner endured a string of guys who were disappointed in him at best. The worst of them were cruel in a way that cut deeper than any on-ice shit-talking he’d dealt with. Trying to figure out how to tell a guy it was going to happen was the worst. But with Tyler, Tanner never even had to say a word. Tyler figured it out the first time he barged his way into Tanner's bed up in Manchester. Honestly, Tyler figured it out firsthand in about forty-five fucking seconds. But more importantly, Tyler never acted like there was something wrong with Tanner, and that’s always meant something.

Tanner knows he got lucky with Tyler. For as much as Tanner wants to think he knows Jeff, he’s not sure what kind of guy Jeff’s going to be when it comes to this. Tanner felt bad enough when he was getting shit from just some guy: a kid he’d seen around school up in Barrie, a call-up from Ontario who was never going to be in Manchester longer than a handful of games, someone he picked up in a bar on the road. But imagining their words coming out of Jeff’s mouth—the taunts, the namecalling, the disappointment—makes Tanner want to run. If he tells Jeff now, at least Tanner will know. At least maybe he’ll be able to walk away before he gets humiliated. 

Tanner chances another look up at Jeff; Jeff’s leaned back again, casual, like he could wait all night for Tanner to talk. He doesn't look annoyed or angry or anything. Yet. Tanner closes his eyes and tilts his head up, so at least maybe he can escape having to look at Jeff as he makes this admission. “The thing is,” he starts, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “The thing is, I'm gonna blow my load in like thirty seconds. Like a fucking teenager, okay?” His voice gets more tense and pinched the longer he talks, and he feels his cheeks heating up with each word. “Tyler already got me wound up, and then you're gonna like, get one hand on my dick and, like." He gestures in the air with one hand, miming an explosion. "Boom, I’m done. That’s just how I always am, I don't know, it's stupid, I’ve tried everything to get it to stop, but—"

"Hey," Jeff says, interrupting Tanner before he can get even more worked up. He reaches out, wraps his fingers around Tanner’s wrist. "It's fine. Calm down. You think that's all there is to this?” His fingers tighten, enough to get Tanner to hold his breath. “You think I’m going to go home just because you come once?”

Tanner blinks. Sure, Jeff’s sitting on his couch and sure, he’s spent the past twenty minutes watching Tanner and Tyler make out. And okay, Tanner knows full well that the plan was for Jeff to fuck the both of them tonight, but hearing it that plainly still gives him pause.

“Tanner.” Jeff’s voice is soft, reassuring. Tanner still can hardly believe that Jeff is there at all, willing to even entertain the idea of taking Tyler and Tanner to bed. There must be so much that he’s been hiding from them for so long. “I can work with this. It's not a big deal."

“But other guys are always so let down, and—”

Jeff slides off the sofa with a grace that confounds Tanner. It’s all one fluid movement, from sitting to standing, then down to his knees in front of Tanner. He pushes Tanner’s legs apart and looks up at him. Blinks once, twice. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You know already,” he says as he curls one hand around Tanner’s dick. “I’m not other guys.”

Tanner’s already so hard, and Jeff’s too good at this by far. His touch is firm, practiced, twisting just right. Tanner arches up into it, hips stuttering off the edge of the sofa. Jeff slows, pauses, starts again. He presses a kiss to the inside of Tanner’s knee, then further up his thigh. A flash of tongue, just enough for Tanner to wonder what Jeff’s mouth would feel like on him. Jeff watches him the whole time, watches Tanner panting and struggling to stay in any sort of control.

Distantly, Tanner feels Tyler’s lips against his neck, hears Tyler whispering something, but all Tanner can really focus on is the terrible moan pushing out from behind his teeth, or the way his thighs tremble even with Tyler holding him up.

“Please,” Tanner manages to breathe out. “Please, wait—”

Jeff’s smile is just as wicked as his hands are. “I don’t think so.”

Tanner shudders, closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to watch himself come all over Jeff’s fist.

 

* * * 

 

"You could’ve at least let me score on you," Tyler grumbles. He twists on the bed, half-heartedly trying to get loose, but there are some things that Martin and Tanner are both really, really good at, and knots are at the top of the list.

Well, hockey, first. Then knots.

"Not a single goal, Joner. You stoned me every time, and this is how you repay me?" Tyler whines. He flexes his wrists above his head, rocks his hips back and forth. He’s not going anywhere, but he might as well try. He knows full well that Martin always likes it when Tyler struggles a little bit. "This is cruel and unusual."

"That's not what Joner said," Tanner points out. He's stretched out alongside Tyler, one hand splayed out on Tyler's chest. "Right?"

Martin kneels between Tyler's legs, spreads his hands over Tyler's thighs. "This is a reward.” He trails his fingers up Tyler's skin and Tyler strains against the ropes, trying to arch into Martin’s hands. “Scoring on me would have been rude.”

“Inhumane,” Tyler protests. “I’m going to call the authorities.”

Tanner rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ty. Good Cop Bad Cop is for next time we see Joner.” He tosses a bottle of lube at Martin, who catches it easily.

Martin upends the lube to pool some into his hand, then throws the bottle aside to hitch Tyler’s hips up. “You two had better work on your interrogation skills before then. You’re both so bad at it.”

“I’m not horrible at it,” Tanner says. He reaches down, gets one hand behind Tyler’s knee to help spread him open before Martin. “Once Ty starts laughing, though…”

“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not— _fuck_.” Tyler loses his train of thought when Martin pushes two fingers in. Tyler thrashes, not sure if he should be trying to push into Martin’s hands or Tanner’s, but definitely overwhelmed by all the hands holding him down, spreading him open.

“You were saying?” Martin smiles, sly, as he crooks his fingers. Pulls out, pushes back in. Again, until he works up a rhythm that gets Tyler making the smallest, neediest noises.

“Rude,” Tyler manages to get out. “Really fucking ru—oh, _shit_ , Pears.”

Tanner’s curled down, got his mouth on Tyler’s dick. He knows all the best ways to get Tyler off, they’ve spent a lot of time together learning just what they both like, and it’s all Tyler can do to writhe on the bed, pinned between Martin’s hands and Tanner’s mouth.

Martin pushes another finger in and it’s too much, too fast. Tyler loves, it, having so many hands on him, but it’s so much.

“You guys.” Tyler flexes his fingers. They’re about all he can move, between Martin and Tanner and the ropes. “You guys, slow down, I can’t—”

Tanner looks up at Tyler. His hair’s fallen down in his face and his cheeks are pink and all he does is slide down Tyler’s dick, taking him in the whole way.

“Shit,” Tyler moans. “Shit, wait, just, not yet, I don’t want to—”

Martin twists his fingers, just right, just there. Tyler can’t wait, can’t hold on, can’t make it last, and before he knows it, he’s bucking up into Tanner’s mouth, coming with a shout far too early under two sets of hands.

 

 

* * *

 

“Are you nervous?” Tanner shifts his weight from foot to foot, staring anxiously at the bathroom door. The shower’s still running, so they have time. “Because I’m nervous. Should I be nervous?”

Tyler’s no better; he’s perched on the edge of the hotel bed, left leg bouncing incessantly. “Yes,” he says. He keeps fussing with the hem of his t-shirt, twisting it in his hands. “Yes, you should be nervous.”

Tanner shoots a glare at him. “Oh, thanks. That’s real reassuring.” He starts pacing back and forth, casting glances back at the bathroom door, like it’s going to open at any second. “You can’t at least lie?”

“No! How are you even standing up? I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. Like, am I sweating? Do I stink? Am I dying?” Tyler pulls his shirt up over his nose and breathes in; when he drops the shirt, he makes a face, mouth turned down into an exaggerated frown. “Oh god, I think I’m dying.”

“Tyler, come on.” Tanner stalks over to the bed, takes Tyler by the shoulders and shakes him. “I thought you’d have your shit together.”

In the bathroom, the water abruptly turns off.

“Oh, fuck,” Tyler blurts.

“Shit,” Tanner says. He sits down hard on the bed next to Tyler. “Shit, we’re fucked.” He grabs Tyler’s hand on impulse, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

“We’re gonna die. We’re gonna embarrass ourselves and then we’re gonna die.” Tyler goes pale, squeezes Tanner’s hand back. “We can’t fuck this up.” He stares at Tanner imploringly. “Don’t fuck this up. We might never be here again, and then what?”

“Me?” Tanner looks incredulous. “You’re the one having a panic attack over sex. _Me_ fuck it up?”

“Yes, _you_ ,” Tyler snaps. “He’s gonna come out and drop his towel and you’re just gonna nut on the spot, and then what?”

Tanner scowls. “That is low, Ty. You’re gonna make fun of me for that?” He snatches his hand back from Tyler just in time for the bathroom door to swing open.

“Oh, hey,” Alec says. He’s got a thin towel slung low on his waist and he’s still wet, beads of water running down his chest. He smiles, first at Tanner, then at Tyler. “You stayed.”

“Shit,” says Tanner. “Uh.” He pushes his free hand through his hair. “I mean.”

“He means,” Tyler interjects, sounding way too cheerful, “of course we stayed, why wouldn’t we stay?”

“I thought, like, 60/40 you guys were going to go back to your rooms. Carts said you might get nervous.” Alec stretches his arms up over his head; the towel dips lower.

Tyler licks his lips; Tanner makes an embarrassing noise that he definitely will not ever admit to.

“Don’t be nervous,” Alec says. He steps forward, threads his fingers through Tyler’s hair. Tyler closes his eyes and leans into Alec’s hands. “It’s only me. You know me.”

“Yeah, but.” Tanner’s throat is dry, his voice sounds scratchy, like he hasn’t talked in days. He clears his throat, tries again. “But, you’re—” Tanner reaches out, runs his fingers over the cut of Alec’s hip. “You.”

Tanner knows better than to make a hook-up into more than what it is. It’s just sex, it’s just making himself feel good for a little while. But it’s hard not to be distracted by Alec. Tanner’s gaze tracks the path of the droplets of water sliding across Alec’s skin: down his neck, dripping down his chest, over his abs, to finally get absorbed by the towel at his waist.

It happens again and again, little drops rolling down from Alec’s hair, splashing onto his shoulders. Water clings everywhere: to his earlobe, the bend of his neck, the tip of his nose. His eyelashes, even. Little beads of water glistening everywhere Tanner looks. Tanner makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. It’s incredibly unfair, Tanner thinks.

He stretches his arm up and splays his fingers across Alec’s collarbone, then drags them down, following the water across Alec’s chest. His skin is still hot to the touch, and Tanner can practically imagine the steam rolling off of him. On impulse, Tanner leans in and licks at Alec’s abs, chasing the warmth, the stray droplets of water.

Alec chuckles and slides his left hand down Tanner’s neck, lets his fingers linger for a moment before he settles that hand on Tanner’s shoulder, the other on Tyler’s. Both of them look up at Alec. Tanner forgets how to blink. “Yeah, and?” Alec moves his thumb in light circles against Tanner’s shoulder; from the way Tyler practically purrs, he’s probably doing the same thing to both of them.

“It’s just—” Tanner puts his hands in his lap, fingers twisting together. “We know you don’t—you don’t do this. All the time. With just anyone.”

Tyler tilts his head to the side and presses his face into Alec’s arm. “So,” he murmurs, lips sliding against Alec’s wet skin. “It’s like, this doesn’t even feel real?”

Alec smiles, soft and gentle, and Tanner feels like his heart stutters in his chest. “Aw, Toff.” He cups Tyler’s cheek, then leans in to kiss him. Tyler opens up for Alec, lips parted, his whole body arching into the touch. Alec’s hand at Tyler’s cheek steadies him there has he deepens the kiss, licking into Tyler’s mouth with ease.

Tanner shifts, pushing the heel of his hand against his dick.  He can’t stop thinking about Tyler’s fear, that Tanner’s going to blow this for the both of them by, well—by blowing it early. He wants to make this last, but Alec’s towel leaves nothing to the imagination, and watching the way he kisses Tyler is already bordering on too much.

Tyler whines a little when Alec breaks the kiss. “I promise, this is real,” Alec says, lips still brushing against Tyler’s as he speaks. “Now take off your pants.” He taps Tanner’s chest, tilts his head to look at him, mouth curving up into a smile. “Both of you.”

With a broad grin, Tyler complies instantly, standing up and shoving his sweatpants down over his hips. Tyler came prepared; he skipped boxers entirely, drawing a smile from Alec. Tanner’s slower to stand up. He watches Tyler, watches Alec’s reaction to the easy way in which Tyler disrobes. Maybe if they both get distracted with each other, they’ll forget about Tanner, and Tanner won’t have to worry about whether or not he’s going to come the second Alec gets his hand on his dick.

“Don’t get shy now,” Alec says to Tanner. With a quiet groan, Tanner complies, pushing himself off of the bed to stand in front of Alec. “See? That’s better.” Alec reaches out and hooks his fingers in the waistband to Tanner’s sweats, tugs gently, just enough to let the elastic push back into Tanner’s skin when he lets go. “Unless you just want to watch.”

“He gets shy sometimes,” Tyler says. He’s back on the bed, legs spread wide. He palms his dick lazily, like it’s more for something to do more than a pressing need to get off. “Isn’t that right, Tanner?”

Tanner glowers at Tyler. “I’m not shy,” he says, even though admitting to being shy is probably better than copping to being nervous, or to being one touch away from coming in his pants. Having the _I’m a serial premature ejaculator_ conversation sucks, and it never gets easier. Tyler’s already made him paranoid that he’s literally going to blow the whole operation, and he can’t stop dwelling on the worst case scenario.

“I’m just—” He trails off, then shoves his pants down, kicking them away more sullenly than the situation deserves. “Just.” He shrugs, then drops down to sit on the bed next to Tyler. “It’s—whatever.”

“Oh,” Alec breathes out. He studies Tanner carefully, then reaches down to untuck the towel from around his waist. No hesitation, no worry. A casual, practiced ease. He folds the towel up then drops it onto the floor in front of him before lowering to his knees between Tyler and Tanner. “Oh, but look at you.” He lifts one hand, slides his fingers up the inside of Tanner’s thigh, then further, to run along the curve of Tanner’s dick. “Look at you.” Tanner bites down on his bottom lip as Alec curls his fingers, strokes Tanner slowly. “You shouldn’t be shy.”

Great. Just—great. Alec thinks Tanner’s insecure about his dick, or his body in general, or both. Maybe it’s better that way, for Alec to think that. He doesn’t even have time to be annoyed, though, because it takes all his concentration to focus on anything other than the way Alec’s touching him.

“Have you thought about what you want?” Alec asks. He shifts his attention to Tyler, pushing Tyler’s knees apart. “Carts said you were up for anything.”

That's only sort of a surprise to Tanner. He’d half expected Jeff to put some limits on what they could do with Alec. It was one of the first things they learned about being with Jeff: more than anything else, Jeff got off on orchestrating a scene, on calling the shots. Tanner and Tyler got to make their own choices, but Jeff led them there, made them want to say yes. Knowing that they had free reign to do whatever they wanted with Alec tonight opened up a whole new world of possibilities for Tanner.

“Anything,” Tyler gasps out. He's leaning back on the bed, legs spread, while Alec idly strokes him. “Honestly. Anything.”

“Really?” Alec arches his eyebrows, his mouth forming a surprised little circle, like he can hardly believe his luck. Tanner nearly laughs out loud, because—seriously? Alec's the one who's acting like he's been given a precious gift? Alec? Because even with all the unbelievable shit Tanner’s found himself doing lately, never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd have Alec fucking Martinez on his knees in front of him.

“Really,” Tanner says. “Just keep—” He gestures at himself, at Alec's hand curled around Tyler’s dick. He tries to summon up any trace of assertiveness he can find. “Make us feel good, yeah? That's what we want.” Maybe Tanner’s lack of control isn’t going to matter. Maybe no one’s going to care when Tanner’s come is streaked across Alec’s face in the next forty-five seconds. Maybe all that matters is feeling good, for as long as it lasts.

“Oh. Well.” Alec’s lips curve up into a smile. “I can do that.” He leans forward, sitting up on his knees, and tilts towards Tyler. With just a hint of mischief in his eyes, Alec licks a long stripe up Tyler's dick.

Almost immediately, Tyler's hips buck up off the bed. “Steady,” Alec murmurs, squeezing his free hand around Tyler's hip.

Tyler whines. His eyes fly open and he looks first at Alec—who seems like he's testing Tyler's dick, never taking him in fully, just getting used to the weight and feel of it under his tongue—and then at Tanner.

Tanner meets his gaze with an unsteady smile. He reaches out, runs his fingers over Tyler’s cheek, traces the line of his jaw. Focusing on Tyler gives him something to do other than focusing on his overwhelming desire to fuck up into Alec’s hand. He's trying to be better. He's trying to be chill. He's trying to not come on the spot. It's—not easy.

Tyler gasps; Tanner flicks his gaze down to Alec, who's finally taken the head of Tyler's dick into his mouth. Alec pauses, cheeks hollowed out, like he's deciding what to do, before slowly moving down, taking him in almost the whole way. “Oh, shit,” Tyler breathes out. “Oh, shit, and you're just—you're only—” He closes his eyes, nuzzles his face against Tanner's hand instead. “You gotta feel this.” Tyler's lips move against Tanner's palm. “You gotta—Tanner—he's so good.”

Jeff said they deserved something nice. They deserved something special. This, maybe, is exceeding Tanner's expectations of what he thought Jeff was going to make happen for them.

“I will, I will, don’t worry—” Tanner starts, but trails off when Tyler looks at him, then takes Tanner's fingers in his mouth. He bobs his head in time with Alec's, Tanner can tell, and Tanner groans. “Ty, please.” He wants to pull his hand away, because Tyler's going at his fingers like he's sucking dick, and Tanner knows just how good Tyler is at that. There's no way he can think about anyone's mouth on his dick right now, or he's gonna explode.

Before Tanner can do anything, though, Tyler groans and lets go of Tanner's hand. Alec's pulled off, pausing for a moment to look at Tyler's dick, hard and wet. He looks up at the two of them, Tanner's fingers dragging a trail of spit from Tyler's lips, and grins.

“I have to be fair,” Alec says. His voice is already rough; Tanner shivers, thinking about that mouth and those red lips and Tyler's dick. “Right?”

Tanner cocks his head. He thinks all of this is incredibly fair. Watching Alec go down on Tyler isn't exactly a hardship. “Wh— _oh_.”

His words die in his mouth, trailing off to a low moan, when Alec swallows him down. No teasing, not like with Tyler. No gentle kisses or experimental licks of Tanner's skin, just his nose pressed against Tanner's thigh as he takes him in the whole way.

“Oh, shit, shit, you—” Tanner breathes in, sharp and fast through his teeth. He fumbles with his hand, reaching out for Tyler—his wrist, his leg, anything. He gets Tyler's hand, holds on for dear life. Tyler squeezes Tanner's fingers, leans in and presses his face against Tanner's neck. He's whimpering quietly; Tanner glances down and sees Alec's hand on Tyler's dick now, working him harder and faster than he had Tanner.

“This is so hot,” Tyler murmurs. “Fuck, look at him, look at you.”

Tanner can't look. He can't watch Alec, watch the way his mouth stretches obscenely, can't listen to the little choking noises he makes when he goes too deep.

“You’re gonna come, just like that.” Tyler sounds half drunk, his words slurring together. He reaches down with his free hand and starts shakily tracing the shape of Alec's face. The curve of his eyebrows, his dark lashes fanned out when he closes his eyes. The hollow of his cheeks. “Come on, Tanner, just go off, mess him up.”

Tanner turns his head towards Tyler, brushes a kiss against the top of his head. “I don't wanna, I wanna wait, I wanna be good.”

“You’re already good, it's so good, it's so fucking perfect,” Tyler babbles. “Stop holding back, come on.”

Alec opens his eyes; they're watering a little, and he looks so debauched. His skin is flushed, all down his chest, there’s a trail of spit smeared across his cheek, his hair’s a wreck. Tyler's got a point. Tanner's gotta mess him up even more.

“Marty,” Tanner croaks out. “Alec, please, Ty's right, I gotta—I'm gonna—I can't wait.”

Alec lifts one shoulder, arches his eyebrows, and of course he could still manage to make that look elegant, even with Tanner's dick in his mouth.

“You don't wanna—?”  Alec shakes his head the best he can, then slides his mouth back down over Tanner's dick the whole way. “Oh, god, oh, you're so—”

Tanner doesn't recognize the noises that come out of his mouth, but he knows that feeling, white-hot heat pooling in his gut, his vision going blurry, and he stops trying to hold himself back.

When Tanner can finally focus on something other than his own heart thumping in his chest, he looks over at Tyler, who’s staring at Alec, still on the floor, licking his knuckles clean with a satisfied smirk curled across his lips.

“Oh my god.” Tanner reaches out, swipes his thumb across Alec’s lips. “Oh my god, get up here,” he says. He shifts over, making room on the bed for Alec. “Get up here, let us—Christ. Let us—just let us do something.”

Alec grins, that same sly smirk he’s been wearing since Jeff shoved Tanner and Tyler at him and said: “Here, you take care of them tonight.” He stands, graceful despite the flushed skin and a streak of someone’s come on his chest.

“Well,” he says, crawling up on the bed between Tyler and Tanner. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

 

* * *

 

Tanner’s never worried too much about how Jeff always knows what he and Tyler need.

Tanner’s never asked about it. Tyler always has an endless stream of questions for Jeff,  and it’s always Tyler who seems to want to dissect every part of Jeff's character and then put it back together again, like a puzzle that's still missing a few pieces.

What Tyler doesn't realize, Tanner thinks, is that Jeff's already done that to them, probably ages before he took them to bed. Jeff's disassembled and reassembled them, and that's why he's so good at discerning just what they need.

And sometimes, what Tanner needs is this: to be on his knees in a hotel room after a rough game for all of them, hands in his lap, head bowed, as his captain sits on the edge of the bed. Anze’s simply watching Tanner. Waiting. Making up his mind, maybe.

Jeff’s leaning up against the dresser, fingers drumming against the wood. The noise gives Tanner something to focus on other than his own growing desire. He wonders if Jeff’s doing it on purpose, giving Tanner a distraction, especially as Anze cautiously reaches out, slides his fingers through Tanner’s hair, then cups his face in one hand.

“And this is—” Anze pauses, looking for the right word. “Normal? How things always are?”

From the corner of his eye, Tanner sees Jeff lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Sometimes,” he says. He stops tapping and crosses his arms over his chest. “Not always. Tyler would have come, too, but—”

“That hit in the second?” Anze tilts his head, considering.

Jeff nods. “Can you imagine? I bring him here, and his back locks up?” Jeff makes a face, like he’s thinking about dealing with an injured Tyler. “Think about him explaining to the trainers what he was doing when it started to hurt more?”

All three of them instinctively frown. Tyler’s not only a terrible patient, he’s also the worst liar by far of them all. A hockey-adjacent, sex-worsened injury is the worst possible thing for Tyler to have to explain away to anyone.

“So he’s sleeping it off,” Jeff says. “He sends his regrets.” Really, Tyler had whined about not even being able to go watch Jeff and Tanner, right up until the pain meds kicked in and he started to nod off. But Anze doesn’t need to know that. “I promise, though. Tanner’s gonna be enough.”

Anze smiles fondly, shakes his head. “I remember a time when it was you down here like this. Waiting.” He looks away from Jeff and runs his thumb over Tanner’s cheek. “How things change.”

That gets Tanner to look up in a hurry, to narrow his eyes first at Anze, then at Jeff. Tanner can hardly imagine it, Jeff of all people down on his knees, waiting for instruction, for approval, for release. He opens his mouth, ready to blurt out a question, but is stopped by the sharp look in Jeff’s eyes.

Tanner thinks about Jeff, younger, wilder, needing to learn his own lessons about patience, needing a firm hand to keep him in place. He wonders who it was who taught Jeff to be steady and calm like this.

“Later,” Jeff says. “That’s a story for later.”

It doesn’t matter. Not right now, at least. Jeff’s behind him now, carding his fingers through Tanner’s hair. Tanner closes his eyes, tips his head back.

“Do you want to show him how good you are?” Jeff’s voice is a low rumble and Tanner squirms under Jeff’s hands. He feels too warm already and his labored breathing is loud in the small room.

Jeff’s hands are at his shoulders now, not quite petting, but not still, either. He squeezes, just enough that Tanner feels grounded.

“Yes,” Tanner says. There are hands on his face, now—not Jeff’s. Anze, running his fingers across Tanner’s lips. Tanner darts his tongue out, catches Anze’s fingers as they pass back over. He opens his eyes, looks up at Anze. “Please, let me.”

Over Tanner’s head, Anze and Jeff exchange glances. There’s a lot of history there, in the lift of Anze’s eyebrows, the gentle curve to Jeff’s mouth. Tanner wants to know all of it. He knows all bets at discretion are off once he tells Tyler about tonight, so he suspects they’ll get the story out of Jeff sooner rather than later.

Jeff ducks down and presses a kiss to Tanner’s temple. “Be good,” he says. A large hand falls on the back of Tanner’s neck and squeezes, just once, before Jeff retreats across the room to slouch in the plush armchair across from the bed.

Tanner cranes his neck to follow Jeff’s movements. “You’re not…?”

Jeff shakes his head. “Maybe later.” He gestures at Anze, perched on the edge of the bed. “Don’t keep your captain waiting.”

That’s the last thing Tanner wants. He lifts his hands from his lap and reaches out, fingers just brushing against Anze’s thighs. “Can I?” He tugs at Anze’s belt, starting to work it open before he gets a response. “Let me.”

“Yes,” Anze says, settling his hands on Tanner’s shoulders. “Of course.”

It’s not exactly the breathless encouragement Tanner’s used to getting from Tyler, and not quite as reassuring as the feeling of Jeff’s hands settling firmly on him to reassure him. But then again, before tonight, Tanner never would have thought he’d be this close to wrangling Anze out of his pants, so the simple granting of permission feels like a miracle.

Tanner’s hands shake when he unzips Anze's pants. He tries to channel the sort of eerie calm he's used to seeing Jeff project. And while he's a long way off from having even a fraction of Jeff’s poise, he wants to try.  "You should stand up," he says to Anze. Tanner spreads his hands out over Anze's hips. "The angle's better."

An amused smile plays across Anze's lips. "You've got ideas?" Tanner worries for a second that Anze's going to tease him for still just being a dumb kid, for thinking he gets to call any shots, but Anze stands up anyway. He starts to push his pants down over his hips, but Tanner reaches out and stops him, one hand tightening around Anze's wrist.

"Slow," he says, taking another chance that Anze's patience hasn't run out yet.

Anze looks down at Tanner, then at Jeff, across the room. "Why’s that?"

"Make me wait for it," Tanner answers. Like it's easy. Like it makes all the sense in the world.

There's more to it than that. But it's the best way he can put it, without pulling himself apart and showing Anze too much of what's inside. He doesn't always like being so raw, so cracked open, not even in front of Jeff and Tyler, but they're different. they're—practically family, these days.

"I want to make it last," Tanner adds. "Let me—?" He tugs on Anze's belt loops. "Just—let me, maybe." He pauses, though. "Please, I mean." He looks up at Anze, puts on his most hopeful face. "Please, let me?"

Anze's fingers work their way through Tanner's hair again. "If that's what keeps you happy."

Tanner exhales. "Thank you," he says, then pushes Anze's pants open.

Anze’s already hard, straining against his briefs, and Tanner holds his breath as he pushes those down, too, They both hiss when Tanner lets his fingers skate across Anze’s skin: under his shirt, over his abs, across the rise of his hips. Everywhere but where they both want.

There’s a method to this, a game. A process. Tanner looks at Anze’s dick, studies it. Looks at the curve, the heft of it, the shape. He thinks about his approach, about what he wants. About what Anze wants. Hell, he even thinks about what Jeff wants.

He leans in, starts to map a line across Anze’s skin with his lips. He follows the same path as his hands took, a gentle trail of kisses across hard muscle and unfamiliar bones. Anze sighs, almost imperceptible, so much that Tanner feels it more than he hears it, feels the long exhalation against his lips.

“So careful,” Anze says. He lets one hand find a home in Tanner’s hair, twisting strands between his fingers.

Tanner grins, lips still pressed against Anze’s skin. “You don’t have to be,” he says, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Ah.” Tanner flicks his eyes up in time to see a smile curl across Anze’s mouth. “Is that what you want?” The fingers in Tanner’s hair tug a little harder.

“I want to feel—” Tanner pauses, struggling to find the right way to finish his sentence. Most of what he comes up with feels too crude for Anze. He’d tell Tyler or Jeff or even Martin that he wants to feel used, spent, filthy, well-fucked, whatever spills out of his mouth first. With Anze, Tanner feels an urge to have at least some sort of decorum. Complete is a good word, maybe, but before he says it, he realizes that’s still a word for Tyler, for Jeff. “Full,” he lands on eventually, even though it too doesn’t sound quite right to his ears. “Does that make sense?”

Anze laughs. There’s no cruelty in it, though; when Tanner looks up at him, Anze’s smile is wide and his eyes are bright. “It makes as much sense as anything I’ve ever heard from him,” he says, tilting his head towards Jeff.

Tanner follows Anze’s gaze over to Jeff, who’s shaking his head, though he looks amused, too. “Just tell him to open his mouth,” Jeff says, “and then you put your dick in.”

Tanner scowls at Jeff. “I was trying to be polite,” he complains. “And then you go and put it like that.”

Anze runs his fingers along Tanner’s jaw. “We’re all friends here,” he says. “I’ve heard so much worse.” His first two fingers prod at Tanner’s lips; Tanner opens his mouth on pure reflex. “Eager?”

Tanner rolls his eyes, then closes his mouth around Anze’s fingers. He doesn’t need words to respond to that.

Anze makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. “Okay, okay.” He pulls his hand back. “I get it.” He strokes himself and Tanner finds his face growing hot. He knows exactly what Anze sees when he looks down: Tanner's skin growing a mottled pink, up to the tips of his ears, his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth open. Eager.

Tanner wets his lips, then closes his eyes. He focuses on what he can hear, instead, trying to keep himself calm. There's Anze's breathing, getting faster, more stilted by the second. The soft, wet noise of skin on skin, Anze's spit-slick hand wrapped loosely around his dick.

"Open up," Anze says, and Tanner obeys instantly. There's a blunt press at his lips and he moves forward of his own accord, taking what Anze's offering him.

Tanner keeps his eyes shut and his hands behind his back. It’s an extra challenge, but he knows it makes a compelling picture, having to trust that Anze's not going to push him somewhere he doesn’t want to go. He stays still, letting Anze control everything—how fast, how deep, how hard.

It’s different than being with Jeff or Tyler, both of whom talk constantly—talking Tanner down, or goading him on, depending on what the goal is. Anze stays deadly quiet, except for little exhalations of breath as he fucks Tanner’s mouth. It’s not like Tanner needs encouragement, though. Anze might not be talking to him, but he’s saying all he needs with his hands, one firm at the back of Tanner’s head, keeping him steady.

It's easy for Tanner to get into it, to totally give himself over to Anze's demands. Tanner doesn't think he's ever been with someone who's managed to come across as so gentle while also making Tanner gag each time he thrusts a little deeper.  He tries not to struggle, but his body doesn't listen, and he finds himself repeatedly pulling off to breathe. Tanner takes in great gasps of air for a moment while Anze strokes his cheek, wipes a stray tear or two away.  "Breathe," Anze reminds him, "nice and slow," and Tanner finds himself growing calm, steady enough to take a deep breath and open his mouth again.

Behind his back, Tanner's hands move restlessly. He wants to touch himself, to show Anze and Jeff what this is doing to him. He can only ignore the way his own dick twitches in his jeans for so long, and it's starting to get overwhelming, not being able to deal with his own needs.

On impulse, Tanner reaches one hand forward and rests it in his lap. Jeff didn’t say Tanner had to keep still, Tanner reasons. It’s been a nice challenge, but he’s ready to change things up now. He doesn’t do much, just moves his hand to feel the slow rub of friction against his dick. It’s not enough to get off, but it feels good to know that he _could_ , if he’d let himself give in.

From the corner of his eye, Tanner notices Jeff slowly unfolding from his chair. Tanner’s hand goes still in his lap. Maybe moving wasn’t a great idea after all. It's all he can do to keep his focus on Anze—to keep his teeth where they belong, to keep everything just right—instead of Jeff's approach.

Jeff crouches behind him, runs his hands down Tanner’s arms. “You want more, don’t you?” He reaches around and takes Tanner’s hand in his, pressing both of their hands against the hard shape of Tanner’s dick in his jeans. “You think you should have this too?”

Tanner doesn’t know if it’s a trick question. After all, Tanner doesn’t know if Jeff’s even going to let him come at all. It wouldn't be the first time Jeff had said no to that. He pulls off of Anze so he can answer, but he doesn’t get far. Jeff stops him, one hand gripping Tanner’s jaw, keeping him in place. Anze’s dick bobs in Tanner’s field of vision, close enough that he goes cross-eyed looking at it, but too far away for Tanner to do anything with it.

“You can come just like this, I know you can,” Jeff murmurs. He gives Tanner one last stroke with their joined hands before pulling Tanner’s back behind his back. “I’ve seen you do it.” His lips brush against Tanner’s ear and Tanner shivers.  “Sucking dick, no one touching you, and you’ll come in your pants, won’t you?” Tanner whimpers. His hips press forward, up against nothing but air. At least the friction from his jeans is something. “Is that what you want?”

Tanner doesn’t know what he wants anymore. He does know that he’d go off in three, four strokes max, if Jeff would only just shove his hand down the front of Tanner’s jeans and help him out. But that’s the easy way, and Jeff’s never been about letting any of them do anything the easy way.

Jeff’s hand squeezes light around Tanner’s throat. He sucks in a great gasp of air on impulse, even though Jeff’s fingers don’t close tight enough to really make it hard to breathe. “Answer.”

Tanner’s a mess, he realizes. Spit running down his chin, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when he blinks. He tilts his head to try to dry his face against his shoulder, but Jeff’s hand at his throat stops him, thumb pressing up against the underside of Tanner’s jaw.

“Answer,” Jeff repeats.

He lets off of Tanner’s throat, eases the pressure enough for Tanner to speak. “Yes,” Tanner croaks. His voice is wrecked already, rough and creaky, like he hasn’t spoken for days.

Like he’s just had his captain fucking his mouth hard, until Jeff pulled him off.

Tanner flicks his gaze up to Anze. He’s taken a step back; the look on his face is nearly unreadable. If Tanner didn’t know Anze so well already, he’d expect that heavy-lidded, mildly annoyed expression meant that he was over all of this, done being patient with Tanner, ready to kick his guests out and come on his own terms. But there’s a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, one that grows more even pronounced when he realizes Tanner’s watching him. Anze strokes himself, slow and almost bored-looking. His hand’s wet, smearing around Tanner’s own spit to ease the movement.

Jeff’s fingers press up hard against Tanner’s jaw again, bringing Tanner back to earth. “Yes, what?”

Tanner’s almost embarrassed over how unsteady his next breath is; it catches in his throat until he forces back out between his teeth. “I want to come like this,” he says. Coughs, clears his throat. Tries to sound a little less like a disaster. “Just like this. Please.”

“Hm.” Jeff eases his hand off of Tanner’s throat. He reaches out for Anze, instead, fingers settling lightly on the front of his thigh. “Then do it,” he says, as he draws the tips of his fingers across Anze’s skin. “And when you’re done, you let him come down your throat. Does that sound good?”

“Yes.” Tanner shivers. “I want all of that.”

Jeff presses a kiss to the back of Tanner’s neck. Tanner can feel him smile: the gentle curve of his lips, the soft, lack of pressure against Tanner’s skin where Jeff’s front teeth should be. “Good.” Jeff slides his hand around the back of Anze’s thigh, pulls him closer. “Go.”

The transition is seamless; one second, Jeff’s whispering in Tanner’s ear, the next, Tanner’s rising up on his knees to finish what he started. Now that Tanner knows the end game, he doesn’t have to keep himself so tightly coiled, so determined to avoid coming until Jeff told him he could.

He focuses on the little huffing noises Anze makes with each thrust, his only concession to the fact that Tanner’s doing anything at all with his mouth. Tanner’s never fucked around with anyone so quiet before, not even Martin back in Manchester, when they were all still trying to pretend that they weren’t doing anything.

In the end, Tanner doesn’t actually need the encouragement to come. He doesn’t need anyone’s hand, doesn’t really even need Jeff’s voice in his ear egging him on. Tanner’s hips jerk up against nothing, his hands balled into fists behind his back.

Anze’s fingers clench tight in Tanner’s hair and it’s too much. He gasps, choking on Anze’s dick before he remembers to pull off. He presses his face against Anze’s thigh instead, panting harshly through his own orgasm. He shouldn’t stop, he knows—Jeff didn’t say he could take a second to get his shit together, but Tanner also knows that teeth are a thing, and that he doesn’t trust himself, and his teeth, to stay where they belong.

Jeff reaches around, presses one hand to the front of Tanner’s pants. Tanner hisses, overstimulated, feeling rubbed raw from the inside out as his dick twitches uselessly in his jeans. There was a time when he definitely would have felt humiliated, coming in his pants with hardly any attention being paid to his dick, but now, he smiles through the haze as he comes back down, proud to have done what he was told.

“Can you keep going?” Jeff asks. His hands move over Tanner, now, no longer holding him back. He pushes sweaty strands of hair back off of Tanner’s face, rubs lightly at Tanner’s arms. Jeff’s gentleness isn’t a surprise, but Tanner thinks it’s unnecessary.

“Of course,” he croaks. He sways forward on his knees, trying to get back to Anze. Of course he’s going to finish what he started. Of course he wants the satisfaction of knowing that he’s one of the few people to get to see Anze like this. “I’m not rude.”

“Jesus,” Jeff mutters, and he gives Tanner a little push, directing him back towards Anze.Tanner goes easily, eyes closed, mouth open.

Anze’s hands twist in Tanner’s hair, holding him in place. Tanner only barely recognizes the noise coming from somewhere deep in his throat, a low keening broken up only by coughing, gagging, every time Anze pushes too far.

Jeff’s hands are in Tanner’s hair, on his face, his neck, dancing across his chest. “You’re doing good,” he whispers in Tanner’s ear, “so good. He’s so close, can’t you tell? You’re almost there.”

Tanner wouldn’t even know that for sure if it weren’t for the way Anze suddenly goes completely still. “Ah-ah-ah,” he stutters, and Tanner has seconds to remind himself to swallow before it’s time.

“Shit,” Anze says finally when he’s done, after he’s slipped his dick out from between Tanner’s lips and tucked himself back into his pants. “Shit, that’s something else.” He reaches out and swipes his thumb across the corner of Tanner’s mouth.

“I told you,” Jeff says. He’s still on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. “Hey,” he says, nudging Tanner’s hip with his toes. “Go get yourself cleaned up.”

What Tanner wants is to curl up in bed and sleep for a week, but this isn’t his hotel room, and Anze probably would like his space back.

Almost in a daze, Tanner unfolds himself from the floor. His joints hurt from staying on his knees for so long, and his vision blurs from standing up too quickly, but otherwise, he doesn’t feel any worse for the wear. “Give me five minutes,” he says, stepping past Jeff to get to the bathroom.

Tanner turns the sink on and searches for a clean washcloth. He should shower, but that can wait until he gets back to his room. He can hear the low rumble of Anze and Jeff’s conversation, and he only feels a little guilty for slowing the sink to a trickle so he can listen in.

“What if he had said no? When you asked if he’d keep going?” Anze asks Jeff, and Tanner holds his breath, washcloth dangling from his fingertips, as he waits for Jeff’s answer.

And there’s Jeff’s laugh again, low and pleased. “Then it would have been just like old times again, wouldn’t it?” Tanner shoves the washcloth under the faucet, trying to keep busy. “You would’ve had to get off a lot quicker. I don’t think my knees are good enough to stay down that long anymore.”

Tanner runs the washcloth over his face, wiping away the spit and sweat and come that’s gotten everywhere. Thinking about Jeff like that—letting someone else take charge—is more distracting than Tanner had expected.

Anze hums, then falls silent for a moment before responding. “You, on your knees, without Mike to call the shots? That’s not exactly old times.”

Tanner drops the washcloth in the sink, forgotten, and goes still, waiting to hear Jeff’s response to that.

“Well. Things change.” There’s the sound of the bed creaking, then footsteps approaching the bathroom. There’s a sharp rap of knuckles on the door, and then Jeff’s voice. “Almost done in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tanner squeaks out. He shoves his face under the faucet, swishes some water around in his mouth, spits. His mouth tastes terrible and he’s afraid to even think about what’s going on in his pants, but that’s a problem for later.

He plasters on his best I-wasn’t-eavesdropping smile and swings the bathroom door open. Jeff’s already got his shoes on, and Tanner’s are right there waiting for him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says. There’s usually an innuendo behind that, with Jeff, but right now, he just looks as tired as Tanner feels. “Say thank you.”

Tanner shoves his feet into his sneakers, not even bothering to do the laces. “Thanks, Kopi,” he says, and he feels his face heat up when he thinks about what he’s being thankful for. “Have a good night.”

Anze smiles, pats Tanner’s arm. “Don’t miss breakfast,” he says. Always the captain, always the responsible one.

“Thanks, Kopi,” Jeff echoes, and a hint of a weary smile plays across his mouth. He hesitates for a second, then leans in, brushes a quick kiss across Anze’s lips. It’s the most uncertain Tanner’s ever seen Jeff, and it’s so weird. “Just like old times.”

 

 

* * * 

 

"We've got a surprise for you," Tyler says, right before he blindfolds Jeff.

"A surprise." Jeff tries to sound disinterested, but he can’t keep himself from smiling as Tyler ties a handkerchief over Jeff's eyes.

"We were trying to figure out what to get you for your birthday," Tanner says. Jeff feels Tanner’s hands settle on his hips, propelling him down the hallway. "And we were like, but you have everything you could want."

"I mean," Tyler adds, from somewhere ahead of Jeff, "you've got us. So you don't need presents."

Jeff chuckles. "That's debatable." Still, though, he presses one hand against Tanner's, squeezing his fingers briefly.

Tanner taps Jeff's side before angling him to go up the stairs. "Anyway." He slides one hand over Jeff's ass, leaving it there as they go up the stairs, and Jeff laughs again, enjoying how shameless Tanner is. "Anyway, we thought, like, instead of getting you a tie or a book or something—"

Tyler cuts in. "We'd do something a little more—"

"Interactive," Tanner finishes. Jeff crosses the last of the steps and Tanner gives him a little shove, pushing him into Tyler, who guides Jeff the rest of the way into the bedroom.

"Sit," Tyler says. "Up on the bed, get in the middle." Jeff starts heading towards the bed, but Tyler intervenes, pushing Jeff around as he climbs on. Once he’s situated against a mound of pillows, Tyler moves away, and Jeff strains to figure out what they’re up to.

Jeff feels the bed dip as someone crawls up to sit next to him. "Happy birthday," Tanner says, then sinks his hands into Jeff's hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Jeff gasps against Tanner’s mouth, surprised by the sudden move.

The mattress shifts again as Tyler settles on Jeff's other side. His teeth graze against Jeff’s jaw. "Happy birthday," he murmurs against Jeff's neck.

Tyler and Tanner had been suspiciously quiet about Jeff’s birthday in the weeks leading up to it, which meant they were probably planning something. This isn’t what Jeff expected, and it’s turning the tables a little from their usual arrangements, but Jeff isn’t going to complain.

“Well,” Jeff says, reaching out to snake one arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “This is a nice—”

“Happy birthday, Carts,” interrupts a third voice, disembodied, from somewhere in front of Jeff. The voice is tinny and a little distorted, but a familiar mumble nonetheless.

Jeff sits straight up and goes very still. After a moment, he reaches up to pull off the blindfold, but the voice stops him. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, Jeff.”

Jeff moves instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, then pats down his hair, disheveled from Tanner's hands, before turning, agonizingly slow, to face the source of the noise, what he can only assume is someone’s laptop. "Hi, Mike." He wants to sound calm, even, but instead, Mike’s name comes out sounding more like a question. Underneath the blindfold, he blinks a few times, like it’s going to change anything.

"The kids had an idea," Mike says. "I figured it'd be rude to say no."

"You figured." Jeff shakes his head slowly, then presses his knuckles to his mouth. "It’d be rude. Christ."

"We thought," Tyler says, and his fingers slide into Jeff's hair, taking long, sweeping strokes to trail down Jeff's neck, then back up. "We thought—remember when you were telling us what you missed about Mike?"

“When I asked, after that one time? With Kopi?” Tanner tosses one leg over Jeff’s thighs and straddles him. Jeff groans as Tanner settles in, his weight pinning him down. “And you said how when Mike was here, things were different for you? You were more, uh. Like me and Tanner. Like the way we are with you.”

That’s a simple way to put it, an easy way to boil down their conversation. But Tanner’s not wrong; Jeff’s always had too much noise in his head, and for the longest time, the only thing that settled him was going under for someone else.

“Tell me about Mike,” Tanner had asked, stretched out in bed with Jeff and Tyler. It was a big question, the answer not as simple as Tanner probably wanted it to be, and there were a thousand different stories Jeff could have told Tanner to help him understand.

“He made everything quiet,” Jeff had told him, all those months ago after their night in Anze’s hotel room. Jeff had drawn the tips of his fingers along Tanner’s jaw, down his neck. “Sometimes, life was just too loud, and he could make it stop for me.” He curled his hand around Tanner’s throat, just a light touch, no pressure at all, and even then, Tanner’s pulse still jumped under his fingers. “You know what I mean.”

It wasn’t a question. And even if it had been, the way Tanner pressed up into Jeff’s hand would have answered it.

So Jeff nods, as Tanner drags his hands over the front of Jeff’s shirt. “I remember.”

“You said you miss it,” Tanner continues. Jeff feels a tug at the front of his shirt. Tanner’s fingers pull at the fabric and Jeff leans into it before he can even second-guess himself. The first button pops open and Tanner pushes one hand inside, nails raking lightly across Jeff’s skin. Jeff gasps; Tanner chuckles softly, ducks his head to press a kiss to the side of Jeff’s neck. He slides his hands in further, freeing more buttons as he goes, leaving Jeff’s shirt hanging open. “What me and Tyler do for you is good, but you miss the way he made you feel.”

Jeff bites down on his lower lip at that. Tanner’s not wrong exactly, but he’s also imagining a universe without Mike’s baggage. Jeff hadn’t told Tyler and Tanner about the bad days, only about when things were perfect, when Mike could make Jeff’s whole world stand still with a single word. So yes, Jeff missed the way Mike made him feel, but he didn’t miss everything else that tended to come with it, and so he moved on.

Tyler rests his head on Jeff’s shoulder. “So Tanner and I got to talking, and we had an idea. Tanner made a call, and, well.”

“Here we are,” Mike says. “Who could say no to those two? Especially when they just want to do something that would make you happy? I couldn’t fly down, but you’ve always had a good imagination.” Mike pauses. He must be leaning in close to the screen, because Jeff can hear a hitch in his breathing. When Mike speaks again, his voice has gone soft. “It won’t be that hard, will it, to pretend I’m there?” Jeff imagines Mike, trying to look innocent and failing. He’s probably smiling, a little too wide. A little too predatory, if you know what to look for. Jeff knows that smile, has known it since he was a teenager. Has melted under it, went to his knees for it, ever since they first realized it was something they both wanted.

"Jesus.” Jeff slaps one hand lightly against Tanner’s thigh. That gets Tanner to move; he slides off of Jeff’s lap and presses up beside him, instead. “I didn't tell you that thinking you'd—"

"Do something about it?" Tyler leans in and starts to work on the shirt buttons that Tanner hadn’t gotten around to yet. "We know. That's why it's a great surprise."

"It's not—shit!" Jeff gasps as Tanner's teeth graze against his neck. "Slow down, it's not that easy. You don’t get to just decide this is a thing because you want it. It’s not as easy as—"

"Jeff," Mike says—snaps, almost, but the authority in his voice, forced into just one syllable, is undeniable, even after all these years.

Jeff's mouth clicks shut. He grinds his teeth together, clenches his jaw.

It's stupid that even from thousands of miles away, after all the terrible things that they've said to each other over the years, that Mike still has this sway over Jeff, and yet, here they are.

Mike breaks the silence first. "I know you miss it.”

Jeff wants to say no, he doesn't. He doesn't miss the curl of Mike's fingers around the back of his neck, he doesn't miss the bruises or the commands or Mike's weight against him, holding him down. He wants to say no, because Mike fucked this up, Mike doesn't deserve to know that he can still get at Jeff like this.

Jeff's body is a traitor, though: he nods.

"And you know Tanner and I aren’t any good at it," Tyler adds. He peels Jeff's shirt back over his shoulders. Jeff feels exposed, letting Tyler strip him on camera for Mike.

"We tried." Tanner's teeth are at Jeff's ear again and Jeff shivers. They did try, but Tyler's right, without direction, they weren't any good at it. They were too gentle, too cautious. Too afraid to hurt. They never pushed Jeff as far as he needed to be pushed. "We tried, and it never worked. So we wanted to give you what you want, for once, but we needed some help."

"Some direction." Tyler slides Jeff's shirt off but leaves it tangled at his elbows, trapping his arms behind his back. Jeff's chin drops down to his chest. Out of habit, he holds his breath, tests how well his arms are held back by the shirt. He could get out of it easily, but he’s feeling increasingly certain that he doesn’t want to do that. "And besides, you know how much better we are—"

"When someone tells us what to do," Tanner finishes. He presses two fingers under Jeff's chin and tilts his face back up.

He hears Mike exhale. "It was their idea. They came to me." Jeff breathes out quick through his nose. If he opens his mouth, he's afraid of what words are going to fall out. "You can say no," Mike adds. "Say no, and I'll disconnect and you three can do whatever. You're allowed to say no. Always were." He sounds so sweet, so genuine, that it makes Jeff's chest ache.

Jeff curls his hands into fists behind him. He’s spent so long these past few years remaking himself into something new, something different, separate from Mike. The discoveries he made with Mike at his side were a lifetime ago, and now he's got Tyler and Tanner on either side of him, rubbing soothing circles into his skin, giving him a choice, offering this up on a platter for him.

He looks straight ahead, where he thinks the laptop is. If he could see, he imagines he’d be staring Mike down. Mike, who’s waiting all the way in Kenora for his answer. And it doesn’t really matter how much he’s thinking about fighting this. There’s only one answer Jeff could ever give. “Please,” Jeff says. “Don’t go.” He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, the need in it is unbearable.

Mike makes a quiet noise. "Same rules as always, then, yeah?"

Jeff sits up straighter. Behind his back, he circles one hand around the opposite wrist, blunt nails digging into his skin. "Same rules," he agrees.

Mike’s quiet for a moment, and Jeff supposes that he’s surveying the situation: Jeff, blindfolded, tangled in his own shirt. He hopes that Mike’s happy at least. It’s been so long that Jeff’s almost forgotten what it's like to have Mike be happy with him—to have Mike be happy with anything at all. "Okay," Mike says. "Take your clothes off."

Tyler and Tanner have done half of the job for Jeff, peeling him mostly out of his shirt already. He works his hands free from the tangled-up shirt, shaking it free from where Tyler'd left it, holding Jeff's arms behind his back. He shakes his wrists out, rolls his shoulders a few times.

Jeff slides off the bed. Behind him, the bedframe squeaks as someone shuffles around. Tyler or Tanner, probably, making sure that the laptop’s screen is still pointed at Jeff. Jeff starts tugging his belt free, letting it hang loose as he quickly goes for the button of his pants next.

"Slow," Mike reminds him, and Jeff freezes. He turns back towards the bed, looking at where he assumes the laptop is. Jeff still feels echoes of so many years past in Mike’s effortless commands.

"Slow," Jeff repeats. He waits a beat, to see if Mike is going to say anything. When he doesn’t, he continues, taking his time now.

He wishes he could watch Mike while he tugs down his zipper, rolls his slacks down over his hips. He knows the look Mike gets far too well, the intense way he stares at Jeff, like he’s taking him apart, like he sees all of Jeff’s deepest secrets, no matter what Jeff did to try to hide them.

"You've told them?" Jeff pauses with his thumbs hooked in the elastic of his boxers. “When you talked. You’ve told them for yourself how things were? How you were?"

Mike swallows audibly. "Tanner and I talked. Tyler—"

"I'm super not good at this," Tyler interjects. "Tanner's better at doing what Mike said he did with you. I can't. I'm just—It’s not me. I want it to be good for you, so I can’t."

"Tanner and I talked," Mike repeats. "It's okay. I'm here. I mean—not there, but here. This isn't—you're not—" Mike curses under his breath. "Tanner's gonna help me. He’s gonna be my hands, you know? Now take the rest of your clothes off."

“Yes.” Jeff exhales, slow, and starts to push his boxers down.

“Yes what?” Mike asks suddenly, his voice rough.

Jeff pauses, sucks in a breath. He goes completely still, holds his breath.

This is how things were, lots of times. Back when things were easy. Back before they fucked it all up.

When Jeff can finally breathe again, he says: “Yes, sir.” His voice is barely above a whisper, because if he speaks any louder, he thinks he might break.

And when he can finally convince his hands to move, he pushes the boxers down, lets them slip to the floor. He’s already hard, and after he steps out of his clothes, kicks them aside, he stands there, hands clasped behind him, on display. For Mike, for Tanner and Tyler.

Mike’s quiet for too long. Jeff can come up with a hundred reasons why. He’s probably just thinking out his next move, but Jeff likes to imagine that maybe he’s distracted, squirming on his bed at the thought of getting Jeff like this one more time. “Get on the bed,” Mike instructs. “On your back. Tanner, go with him.”

Jeff takes careful steps back in the direction of the bed, short little shuffles until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. After he lowers himself down, he automatically stretches his arms up overhead to grasp at the headboard. There's a shuffling at the foot of the bed—Tyler moving the laptop around, Jeff guesses. The bed dips again, and Tanner settles next to Jeff’s head and stretches Jeff’s arms out. Jeff’s face breaks into a relaxed smile as soon as he realizes what Tanner’s about to do. The soft hiss of rope unspooling in Tanner’s hands tells Jeff that his guess was right.

Mike and Tanner really must have talked, because this used to be one of Mike’s favorite moves. Jeff, tethered down, using the time to get his mind right, focusing on the shuffling noises the rope made as it slid through his hands, the bite of the rope around his wrists or his chest or his thighs, whatever Mike wanted that day.

Jeff's never asked why Tanner's so good at this part. It's never mattered, anyway; was just a nice surprise when they started experimenting. He doesn't even need Mike's instructions, murmured from practically the other side of the continent. Jeff’s watched Tanner do this a dozen times, usually to Tyler, so he knows just how elaborate Tanner can get when he really puts his mind to it. It hardly takes any time at all for Jeff to zone out, hearing only the rush of blood in his head, feeling just the slide of rope around his wrists until he’s tethered in place.

"Wiggle your fingers for me," Jeff hears Mike say, and from his tone—not exasperated, not yet, but getting there—he's already had to ask a few times while Jeff was off somewhere else. Jeff complies, all ten of them wiggling for the camera, before he tucks enough fingers back into a fist so that he's flipping Mike off.

"Nice, nice," Mike says, and his laugh makes Jeff look up, crane his neck so he can look in the direction of Mike’s voice. He always loved Mike's laugh. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You're already halfway gone."

"Years, I guess," Jeff croaks out. "Since we stopped." It’s not like Jeff had wanted to stop, but Mike’s last year in LA, he was too deep in his own pain to care about pleasure for either of them, and so Jeff walked away.

"Oh, Jeff." There's something in his voice that makes Jeff's head thud back down to the pillow. He squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on the way he can feel every last twist and loop of the rope around his wrists. It’s easier that way.

"Where's the last hit you took?" Mike asks. Jeff doesn't trust himself to answer, and he’s relieved when Tanner does instead.

"Blocked a nasty shot," Tanner says, and Jeff feels a set of hands on him, right where the puck hit. "And someone checked him into the boards real good." Tanner presses, first at a spot on Jeff’s thigh where a puck had come up right between the bottom of his pants and the start of his shinpad, then another, laid firm over his ribs, mottled with an ugly yellowing bruise from where he was rudely introduced to the boards.

Mike snorts. "What're you doing blocking shots, you sniper?" Jeff starts to laugh, but then Mike says, "Go ahead," and suddenly, the probing fingers at his thigh turn sharp, grinding into the muscle, digging in with enough force that Jeff feels his legs start to shake, the tremors quick and painful as he arches up into it.

“Shit,” Jeff barks out. He plants his feet on the bed, but there’s nowhere to go but up, into the pain, seeking it out. “Fucking—shit, Tanner—”

“Harder,” Mike says, and Tanner’s knuckles dig into Jeff’s tender ribs. “If you get him just right, he’ll cry.” There’s a certain amount of glee in Mike’s voice. He’s not wrong, of course; it’s been so long since Jeff has had this that he knows it’ll be real easy to break him down the way Mike likes. “And if you keep going past that,” Mike adds, just as Tanner’s blunt fingernails rake across Jeff’s skin, “you’ll make him come.”

Tanner’s hands prod and press, fingers pinching and scratching at Jeff’s already tender skin. Jeff curls his hands into fists and holds his breath. It feels like Tanner’s trying to take him apart, trying to separate muscle and skin, flesh and bone.

From thousands of miles away, Mike murmurs instructions to Tanner. “Harder,” he commands, and “dig deeper,” and “look how fucking gone he is.” Tanner’s breathing’s already grown ragged, and his breath hitches any time Mike speaks. If Jeff screws his eyes shut tight enough, finds just the right headspace, he can almost feel Mike’s hands on him. Tanner’s hands are bigger, softer, more tentative, but if there’s anything Jeff’s always been blessed with, it’s a good imagination.

It’s too easy, then, to imagine that it’s Mike holding him down. Too easy to pretend that nothing ever changed between them, that he’d never lost Mike, long before Mike ever left Los Angeles. Jeff lets out a whimper, lost in his own thoughts.

“Shit,” Mike whispers, just loud enough to get picked up by the laptop. “Shit, Jeff.” He coughs and clears his throat; when he speaks again, his voice is steady. “Hit him, Tanner.”

There’s not even enough time for Jeff to prepare himself, which is just what Mike is aiming for. He always did like the element of surprise. Tanner’s hand slaps down over Jeff's inner thigh.

Instinctively, Jeff tries to press his legs back together and twist away, but Tanner gets his hands on Jeff's knees, pushing his legs back open.

"Don't squirm," Mike warns as Tanner's palm cracks down over the bruise on Jeff's leg. "Let me give you what you need."

Jeff inhales sharply. He lets his legs fall open, muscles tense as he tries to keep still.

"Start over," Mike says.

Tanner's knuckles are back on Jeff's ribs, only now, just as Jeff gets used to that sensation, Tanner punctuates each dig of his fingers with an open-handed slap. He works his way down Jeff's body like that, alternating between prodding, hitting, scratching. It's an impossible overload of sensation, and Jeff feels ready to crawl out of his skin to get away from Tanner's hands, or maybe to get closer to them. Everything from his chest to his knees feels like it's on fire. His mind is a mess, all he knows is that he's stopped being able to tell where Tanner's hands end and his own body begins.

"Please," Jeff gasps. It just comes out of him, unbidden. "More." His throat is tight; he feels the familiar prickle of tears welling up behind his eyes. He didn't ask for this. He didn't ask to be torn down, built back up again, he didn't want this to be what he needed. He's spent years becoming a different person, one who didn't crave this, didn't need it to get by. Jeff told himself he could be a new person, and it worked, right up until it didn't.

"What do you want?" Mike asks. Tanner's hands go still, splaying flat over Jeff's hips, anchoring him to the bed.

Jeff laughs, he can't help it. What does he want? He could talk from now to next week, and none of it would be enough to shut off the buzzing in his mind.

"What do you _want_?" Mike repeats, sharper this time. Tanner's fingers dig into Jeff's skin, hard enough that Jeff's already sure he'll have bruises there tomorrow. Little fingerprints, burned into his skin, just the shape and spread of Tanner's hands. The very idea of it makes Jeff take a sharp, shaky breath. He feels the tears he'd been trying to hold back spill over, trickling from the corner of his eyes.

"Talk to me, bud," Mike says, and his voice is soft now. "You've got to talk to me."

Jeff focuses on breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. An audible exhale, letting everything out. What does Jeff want? He wants to rewind time, go back to a point where maybe he could have saved Mike from himself. He wants to do everything over again, only with the wisdom that he has now. He wants to shove the laptop from the bed so he stops hearing Mike’s voice in his ear, opening up old wounds, carving new ones into him with every word. He wants to take his blindfold off and rise up and kiss Tanner and Tyler both, show Mike that he’s okay, he’s fine, he’s moved on, he’s found himself with people who won’t use him up and spit him back out and ignore all of the ways they were terrible for each other.

Jeff doesn’t say any of this. Instead, he waits until his breathing is steady and says: “just fuck me.”

 "Jesus, Carts," Mike says, sounding incredulous. Jeff's not sure what Mike expected him to answer, but it's the only thing Jeff can think of that will get his mind to be quiet.

Tanner's hands go slack on Jeff's hips. "Mike, I don't know if I—" He sounds a little panicked, like this is the one thing he hadn't planned on Jeff asking for. "I'm already so—" He trails off before a whine can creep too far into his voice. "I'm not gonna fucking make it," he says.

A new set of hands settle on Jeff's shoulders. They're soft and cold and Jeff smiles, because Tyler's finally joined them. "I think I could," Tyler says. His hands pass over Jeff's chest, a light touch in such pointed contrast to the heavy blows of Tanner's hands. "I know I'm good at that."

Jeff feels pulled apart, Tanner's hands at his hips, Tyler's fingers drawing delicate patterns across his chest, as Mike considers.

"Well," Mike says, after an eternity of silence. "Turn him over, then."

All the hands on Jeff move at once. Someone undoes the ropes tethering Jeff to the headboard, and then he’s being pushed and prodded until he’s up on his knees, ass in the air, face pressed into his folded arms. There's shuffling beside him as Tanner and Tyler swap places; soon it's Tanner's hands stroking across Jeff’s skin while Tyler steadies his hips, pushes his legs apart. And this, this is familiar to Jeff, this doesn't throw Jeff off kilter quite so badly.

Tyler fucks him with short, shallow thrusts at first. It’s maddeningly slow, and Jeff whines as he tries to push back, needing more than Tyler’s giving him. 

“Like you mean it, kid,” Mike instructs. “Fuck him so he feels it tomorrow.”

Tyler buries himself deep on his next stroke and Jeff groans, pushes back into it. Tyler doesn’t back off after that, holding Jeff up so he hits at just the right angle. He wants to touch himself, get himself off, but no one said he could yet—not Tanner or Tyler and certainly not Mike—so instead Jeff’s hands claw at the bedsheets as he pants through it.

Tanner’s hand falls heavy on the back of Jeff’s neck, a steady pressure anchoring Jeff down. And Mike’s voice is still in his ear, telling him to take it, take it hard, like he was meant to, like he was made for it.

“You’re dying for this, aren’t you?” Mike asks. Tanner’s short nails scratch across Jeff’s back. Jeff tries to grind down against the mattress, but Tyler’s grip on his hips is too tight.

All Jeff can do is nod. Jeff’s dying for that moment that his whole world shorts out, he gasps for breath, his vision blurs. Where his whole world narrows down to a set of hands on his hips, a voice in his ear, fingers curled around his throat.

“He’s close,” Mike says, knowledge borne out of years of shared history, years seeing Jeff just like this. “You can get him there, I know you can.”

Tyler grunts; his fingers dig in sharper to Jeff’s hips, pinning him in place as he fucks him. Tanner meanwhile matches his prodding of the bruise at Jeff’s ribs with each of Tyler’s thrusts, until it all becomes one unending sensation. Tyler fucking him, Tanner jabbing at tender skin until Jeff feels dizzy with it.

“Please,” Jeff gasps out. “I can’t—”

“I know, babe, I know you want to come right now.” There’s a frantic edge to Mike’s voice. “But what if I said no?”

“Fuck,” Jeff nearly sobs out. “If that’s what you want.” He shuts his eyes tight behind the blindfold. He can imagine everything unfolding perfectly in front of him, Mike commanding Tyler and Tanner to stop entirely, ordering Jeff to refrain from touching himself. Mike would do it, and Tyler and Tanner would go along with it. After all, Jeff’s taught them to listen to directions, too.

“No, no, no,” Mike croons. “No, I won’t do that to you now.”

Jeff’s cry of relief rips out of him before he can stop himself. He misses the instructions that Mike gives to Tyler and Tanner, but he must have told them it was okay to go on. Tyler’s fucking him with a renewed energy, holding him in place, one hand tight around his hip, the other pressed flat against his shoulder. Tanner’s snaked a hand around Jeff’s body, curling it around his dick.

Tanner’s hand moves frustratingly slow, no rhythm at all, and Jeff’s halfway ready to complain about it, when Tanner’s other hand curls around his throat, thumb tucked up just under Jeff’s jaw, tilting his head back. Tanner leans in, presses a kiss to Jeff’s temple, and squeezes.

The hand on Jeff’s dick is completely unnecessary. He tries to gasp, realizes can’t get enough air, and comes hard over Tanner’s fist.

He slumps forward, panting, and loses sense of time for a moment as he tries to catch his breath. When he comes back around, Mike’s murmuring softly at him. “So good,” Jeff hears, “you did so well.” Jeff presses his face into the mattress, hiding the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Tyler’s slipped out of him and is bent double, pressing kisses to the spots on Jeff’s skin that are sure to bruise later. Tanner’s commanding touch has turned soft, and his fingers slide through Jeff’s hair, down his neck, working out knots of tension in Jeff’s shoulders.

“We’ll give you a couple minutes,” Tanner says, pressing a kiss to the back of Jeff’s neck, and the mattress shifts. Footsteps shuffle out of the room, a door opens, and within moments, the shower begins to run. Jeff is suddenly alone.

Almost.

Mike clears his throat. “You can take the blindfold off now,” he says.

Jeff unknots the handkerchief and blinks at the sudden brightness of the room. His whole body aches as he rolls onto his side, but it’s a good sort of pain, something he’ll carry with him over the next few days to remind him that he is still and always someone who needs to feel like this.

He looks at the laptop as he settles himself among the pillows. For the first time, he sees Mike, who meets his gaze with a familiar half-smile. His hair’s too long and his beard just on the wrong side of unkempt. “Hi,” Jeff says, feeling suddenly awkward. “You look good.”

“I look like shit,” Mike says. He runs his hand over his beard. “You look great.” A smile from Mike. Easy, honest. Jeff’s missed that.

“I guess,” Jeff says slowly, unsure of himself. He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Thanks for letting Tanner and Tyler talk you into this. I didn’t know how…” He trails off. I didn’t know how much I missed you, he wants to say, but he keeps that thought planted firmly in his head.

Mike raises his hands, palms up. “I’m just hoping it gets me off the hook for forgetting to send a card.” Jeff rolls his eyes. Like Mike’s ever sent anyone a birthday card in his life. “They really are good kids,” he says, then. “They’re good for you. You look happy. I remember—” He glances away from the screen and his voice drops into a familiar, gruff mumble. “You used to look like that all the time.”

“Well.” Jeff runs his fingers over his collarbones, up his neck. “Your birthday’s soon,” he says. “I bet Tanner’s gonna call again soon, ask you what you want.”

Mike smiles then, a little shy, a little surprised.

“What can I say,” Jeff reasons. “I’m bad at cards, too.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

The view is beautiful, Tanner thinks. Floor to ceiling windows, so it looks like the lake comes all the way up to the house, without even a break for the shore. The sun is setting, casting a gentle pink-purple hue over everything.

He could look at this all day. He sees why Mike picked this place. Deep in the woods, no neighbors for miles, only deer and fish for company.

Tanner thinks he’s seen one, maybe two fishing boats go past, and unless the folks have binoculars trained on the house, they’re not going to see anything.

Which, Tanner has to agree, is a very good thing, because if anyone saw, there might be more questions coming Mike’s way the next time he’s in town than he necessarily wants to deal with.

Jeff’s settled down on his knees, hands folded in his lap. He hasn’t said a word since Mike put him there, but he’s also had a faint smile twitching at the corners of his mouth since the second they set foot in Mike’s house. He looks straight ahead, head lifted. There’s something defiant in his posture, a sharpness in his eyes. It’s a good look for him, and Tanner smiles.

Tyler, next to Jeff, doesn’t manage to look half as dignified. He’s on his knees, too, arms outstretched as Tanner works on binding his wrists together. While Jeff sits tall and proud and eerily patient, Tyler’s restless, eyes darting around the room, shifting his weight from side to side as Tanner works.

This is how it always is. Jeff would wait for an eternity, so long as someone tells him to. Tyler—Tyler needs a little more.

“Stop,” says Tanner, calling on every last bit of confidence he has, all the authority he can muster in his voice. He grips Tyler’s chin, tilting his face up. “I told you, stop fidgeting.”

Tyler grins, then goes still. Like it’s a game that he’s just won.

Tanner looks over at Mike and Jeff to see how they’re doing. Mike’s working restraints around Jeff’s wrist, the rope layered thick and tight. Tanner already knows that he’s picky, but something about Mike’s work makes him pause.

“That’s—” Tanner bites his lip. This isn’t really his place to say anything, but—“You’re not going to be able to get him out of that easy, if you do it like that.”

Mike stops, turns his face up to glare at Tanner. The look in his eyes makes Tanner go still—lets him see a fraction of what Jeff sees, and still makes him want to drop down to his knees between Jeff and Tyler and obey.

He’s silent, almost daring Tanner to go on. So he does.

“The fastest way is to cut him out. If he needs out quick, he’s fucked. This isn’t a boat you’re docking, Mike. You can’t fuck with his hands. He kind of needs them.”

Mike tugs at the rope, one sharp pull on the loose ends; Jeff gasps, arches towards Mike. “You’re saying I don’t know what I’m doing? I think he likes it just fine.”

“No, just—” He gestures at the rope in Mike’s hands. “Can I?” Mike shrugs and drops the rope, letting the ends pool in Jeff’s lap. Tanner picks it up, starts to redo Mike’s work. Mike watches, his gaze sharp as Tanner adjusts the rope, as Jeff’s breathing grows heavier the longer that Tanner works. Safety measures aside, Tanner’s always had a flair for the elaborate at this, and today’s no exception. Mike’s knots were fine, if utilitarian; Tanner wants to create something beautiful.

When he’s done, the rope’s worked up the length of Jeff’s arms. “To get him out, you just—” Tanner tugs at the center of one of the knots and the whole thing starts to loosen.

“You think you know what you’re doing?” The words are sharp, but there’s no real anger behind them—just the same promise of a challenge that Tanner’s always loved in Mike.

“Well,” Tanner says. He settles Jeff’s hands in his lap, pushes at his shoulders to sit him up straighter, then moves to stand. Still not as graceful as Jeff, but Tanner’s working on it. “You taught me.”

Mike smiles. “They’re yours, then.”

Tanner cocks his head at Mike, as if to ask: Really? Now?

Mike just nods, gestures at the floor in front of Tyler and Jeff. Even takes a few steps back.

It’s now or never, Tanner thinks. He steps forward, to Tyler first. “Tell me what you want,” Tanner says. He runs his fingers over Tyler’s jaw, tilting his face up, before moving to Jeff. His grip is firmer on Jeff’s chin, fingers digging in as he forces Jeff to look up, drawing his attention away from Mike.

Jeff smiles. He’s relaxed. Beautiful. He answers Tanner without hesitation. “Everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> content notes: characters explore an open polyamorous relationship with d/s leanings, with fluid dynamics when it comes to dom/sub/switch; character talks about some bullying/shame experienced over coming early; jokes about sexytimes roleplaying; use of ropes as restraints; blindfolds; somewhat rough oral sex; choking/breathplay; bruiseplay; pain; crying; long distance somewhat under-negotiated skype d/s sex

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bright and (Not Too) Early (the Android remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236374) by [kleinergruenerkaktus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleinergruenerkaktus/pseuds/kleinergruenerkaktus)




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